


Here Together

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee
Genre: Honeymoon, M/M, Reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaine honeymooning and finding out about Dalton. Porn and feelings. Belated 6.08 reaction fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Together

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Rated for sex and language. Blowjobs, fingering, anal sex. Brief discussion of the events of 6.05 and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of Samchel, which was kinda canon at the time. One reference to Blaine's experience at Sadie Hawkins. Unbeataed.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** I started this immediately after 6.08, but then abandoned it when I didn't finish it by the time 6.10 rolled around. I recently found it in my drafts and decided to dust it off and finish it to help get me out of a writing slump. And just for the record, I wrote the last name conversation before we got the 6.13 script. ;)

“Do you think we're – ” Blaine pauses and searches for words “– making the most of this whole honeymoon thing?”

“Hmmm?”

“I just – are we doing it wrong?”

There's a muffled, offended noise, and then Kurt is pulling off of Blaine's dick, swiping the back of one hand across his mouth, and casting an incredulous look up toward Blaine's face. “I'm sorry. Did you say _doing it wrong_?”

Blaine manages to pry his head off the pillow. “No! I mean, no, I didn't mean _that_. God, never.”

“Okay then,” Kurt says, wasting no time in lifting Blaine's cock to suckle the head again before taking Blaine back in deep.

“ _Kurt_ –“ Blaine chokes out, strangled, and he untangles one hand from the bedsheets to grab at the back of Kurt's skull. His hips twitch up and Kurt hums appreciatively. “It's just – _huh_ – the thing I've seen most of since we got here is the ceiling.” He flails his free arm weakly upwards to illustrate his point.

With another frustrated grumble, Kurt lets Blaine's dick slide back out of his mouth. “It's Massachusetts in November, honey. Did you think we were going to be spending a lot of time at the beach?” 

Blaine huffs. “No. But I don't think we've left this place for more than half an hour. We didn't even make it through dinner last night –” he glances at the now-empty takeout containers, thrown hastily on the top of the dresser, the ones they'd requested after their orders were placed but before the food arrived “– or _to_ lunch. And when we tried to take a walk, we turned around after three blocks.” It seems like all it takes is the two of them making eye contact, and they're all but running back to the cabana house.

“Blaine,” Kurt starts, propping himself up on his elbows and wiggling his way up Blaine's body. “There's absolutely no pressure on us to do anything other than enjoy ourselves. Sue paid for us to get here, and she rented this lovely beach house and went to the trouble of making up a ridiculous lie about it belonging to Andrew Sullivan. That's it. Anything else is on us, and frankly, I'd rather save our money to use when we renew our vows and rebook the honeymoon we intended to have. We'll have plenty of time to explore Provincetown after we retire. For now, we've got seventy-two hours and an entire cabana house to defile. So –“ he starts peppering Blaine's mouth with kisses between his words “– let's – defile it.”

Resisting such an onslaught is futile, especially with all of Kurt's naked skin settling in against his naked skin, so Blaine lets himself enjoy the delicious press of Kurt's lips on his, then he pushes back against it eagerly. “All right,” he finally breathes into Kurt's mouth, into all the heat and humidity that's there between them, even in November in Massachusetts. “You talked me into it. What do you want?”

Kurt hums. He drags kisses to Blaine's ear and says, low, “Well, Mr. Anderson-Hummel, I believe that I've fucked my husband, but I don't think my husband has fucked me.”

And as good as that sounds, Blaine tilts his head to the side, interrupting Kurt and trying to catch his eye. “Anderson-Hummel? I thought we decided on Hummel-Anderson.” 

“Well...” Kurt shrugs, crossing his arms over Blaine's chest and settling his chin on top. “I was thinking maybe we could do both? You'd be Anderson-Hummel, and I'd be Hummel-Anderson.”

Blaine purses his lips. “It's not a _bad_ idea, but I still think we should have the same last name. I _want_ to have the same last name as you, Kurt.”

“Me too,” Kurt says, his lips tilting up into a grin that's a little goofy. His quick surrender lets Blaine know that he wasn't dead-set on the idea to begin with. 

“We could always mash them up...?” Blaine suggests cautiously.

“Do you really want your last name to be Anderhummel? Or worse, Hummerson?”

“I think they're kind of cute,” Blaine retorts.

“Let me rephrase that: do you really want your last name to be something that _Sue Sylvester_ came up with?”

Blaine shrugs against the mattress. “She's had worse ideas.”

“Like getting us back together?” Kurt asks demurely, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Blaine says at once. “Never that.” He pauses thoughtfully, then adds, “Her methods left a little to be desired.”

“Kidnapping.” Kurt's voice is flat and his lips are twisting like he tastes something sour. “Holding two adult men against their will for over twenty-four hours –”

Blaine interrupts him before he can really get going, sweeping a hand up and down Kurt's back and leaning up off the pillow to peck him mid-word. “Hey now, let's not waste any time on this honeymoon talking about a hostage situation.”

Kurt kisses him back, longer. “You're right, you're right. Besides, I believe we were discussing something else.”

“Mmm,” Blaine hums, blinking up into Kurt's face. “How to mash up our last names?” He stifles a giggle as Kurt's face goes wry. “Andermel?”

“Blaine –”

“ _Hum_ dermel!”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he kind of looks like he's trying not to laugh too, so Blaine presses on.

“Or Humderson! Kurt I really don't think we've fully explored all of our options –”

There's a flurry of motion, and suddenly Kurt is pinning Blaine to the bed with firm hands on Blaine's wrists and the steady, heavy weight of him across Blaine's thighs. His face is hovering an inch or two away, and he's glaring half-playfully and half-dangerously. “Stop before you hurt yourself, sweetie,” he advises, then droops down to put his mouth right next to Blaine's ear. “Now, _husband of mine_ , I believe I asked you to fuck me.” He scoots so that Blaine's cock is nestled right into the crack of his ass, and twists his hips against it.

Blaine groans, low and quiet. “No fair, Kurt. You know what the h-word does to me.”

“Is that what _this_ is all about?” Kurt asks innocently, rocking in slow, grinding circles over Blaine's erection. Blaine can feel the flex of the muscles in his ass, his thighs. “A word?”

“Kurt, come on,” Blaine says. He's not quite begging, but he tilts his head up off the pillow, straining for Kurt's mouth.

“It doesn't have anything to do with me?” Kurt continues, his eyes sparkling. “You know, your – _husband_?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, even as he arches up against Kurt's hold on his body. “Kurt, please. You want me to fuck you? Then let me fuck you.”

Kurt looks like he's considering that for a second, but finally he says, “No. I think I like you right here.”

*

Kurt intends to torture Blaine by fingering himself open while he's straddling Blaine's lap and all Blaine can do is watch, but he has to let go of Blaine's wrists to get started, and Blaine immediately starts stroking Kurt's skin – his thighs, his stomach, his chest, his hips. Kurt's hovering on the edge of indecision, because he does _so_ like Blaine touching him, and he does _so_ like when those touches include Blaine's fingers up inside him, when –

David Bowie starts singing “We Could Be Heroes” from the nightstand.

Kurt pauses, looking suspiciously down at Blaine's flushed face. “Doesn't Sam know better than to call someone on their honeymoon?”

“I don't know,” Blaine pants. “Just ignore it.”

“Wait.” Kurt leans away a bit, and Blaine's hands tighten on his sides as he groans in frustration. “Why is your phone even on?”

“One of them should be,” Blaine argues. “What if there's an emergency?” 

“Then we'll find out about it when we're done having sex and turn on our phones to check for messages,” Kurt grumbles, shooting a murderous glance at Blaine's phone, which finally goes silent.

Blaine slides his hands around Kurt's waist and down, digging his fingers into the flesh of Kurt's ass while he bucks his hips up. “Just ignore it,” he repeats.

The phone pings with a voicemail notification, but Kurt doesn't pay it any attention, because he's crushing Blaine back into the pillows, with a kiss hot as a brand. Blaine writhes and whines underneath him, pawing at Kurt like they haven't spent the majority of their time over the past day and a half kissing each other and touching each other and fucking each other. Longer than that, Kurt thinks – ever since he ran to Blaine's doorstep and was finally honest, with Blaine, with himself. It still doesn't seem like enough to make up for the time they'd lost. 

Kurt doesn't mind continuing to rectify it. He fumbles blindly for the lube, lost in the sheets beside them. When his hand closes around it, he tears his mouth away from Blaine's and sits back, slicking up his own fingers and tossing the bottle aside while Blaine's moan goes from petulant to deeply, deeply appreciative. 

He should turn around, Kurt thinks. Give Blaine a front-row view. Maybe ride him that way – it's a position they haven't used a lot, not yet, and it's a hot one, Kurt knows from what limited experience they have with it. Still, he doesn't want to turn away from Blaine, doesn't want to not be able to kiss him, to watch the pleasure play out across his bloodstained cheeks and his expressive face. So he doesn't. Kurt leans forward, reaches under his body to slide his fingers along then into the crack of his own ass, and starts teasing the rim of his hole as his eyes drift shut.

Blaine groans out his name ( _Kurt yeah_ ) and the gravelly tone of his voice goes straight to Kurt's cock, making it throb with want and inattention. Kurt's patience is severely waning, so he starts working one finger in, a pulsing pressure that quickly breaches any resistance until it's pumping deep. It's good, and even though it's not anywhere near enough, Kurt's eyes screw shut and his jaw drops ajar on a harsh breath. 

He's vaguely aware that Blaine has released his hips, but he doesn't really register it until he feels one of Blaine's hands cupping the side of his face a few moments later. Blaine's thumb lands near Kurt's mouth and drags over it, pulling his lower lip open, just a little. Kurt huffs out a warm, damp breath, then cradles the tip lightly between his teeth and flicks his tongue over it. Blaine's skin tastes salty and tangy, and he makes a broken noise in response.

And then, and _then_ Kurt feels Blaine's other hand, and it's at his ass, resting against the one that Kurt already has there, blanketing it. It's slippery, Kurt realizes, and his breath hitches as he feels Blaine start to rub clumsily around where Kurt's finger is disappearing inside himself, then press the rim of Kurt's hole like he's testing it.

Kurt's breath hitches and he draws his finger partially back out. Blaine's tucks alongside it, and they both push in together. It's kind of awkward, and mostly out of sync, but Kurt can hardly _breathe_ because after a little combined effort, he's got _both of them_ inside his body. His free hand is balled almost painfully in the sheets, and he realizes that he's sucking _hard_ on the end of Blaine's thumb, but he lets it go to wheeze out “oh my _god_.”

Blaine's no more articulate, babbling _Kurt_ s and _oh my god_ s and cursing under his breath. Kurt cautiously moves his hand, and then they're pumping his hole more or less in rhythm, and Kurt's not even sure he's going to make it to getting Blaine's dick inside of him because at the moment what they're doing is _literally the hottest thing he can conceive of_ and his husband is an _erotic genius_ and –

“Don't Rain on My Parade” is suddenly blaring from Blaine's phone.

Kurt freezes and his eyes fly open. Blaine looks completely wrecked. And sheepish. “Rachel?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah,” Blaine confirms. He gently slides his finger along Kurt's, almost all the way out of his body and then back in.

“Oh, _fuck_. Okay, okay, We're just going to ignore it again, then.”

Blaine stops teasing Kurt's hole and frowns. A tiny furrow appears on his forehead. “Should we? What if it's something important? Why else would she be calling my phone and not yours?”

“Because mine's off,” Kurt chokes out. The phone stops ringing. “Too late anyway. They're probably just having relationship drama.”

“You're probably right,” Blaine says. He still looks worried, but the expression melts away when Kurt starts working his hand again, encouraging Blaine to do the same. The voicemail notification sounds.

Kurt barely notices it. “I want one more,” he rasps, the words tumbling out before his brain has even caught up to them, but yes. It's exactly what he wants: one more finger, the stretch of it, and then Blaine's dick. 

“Yours or mine?” Blaine groans, already probing around Kurt's rim with eager fingertips.

“Just let me –” Kurt eases out and cradles Blaine's finger in two of his. “Like this? Okay?”

Blaine gives a strangled noise of approval, and they work in together, set up a new, slightly uneven rhythm that Kurt rides until he can't anymore, because it's either get Blaine's cock inside of him immediately or come where he is. “Now, Blaine, stop,” he gasps. They aren't the right words; he doesn't want to _stop_ , but Blaine seems to get it.

“Are you sure you don't just want to –?” he asks, as they plunge their fingers in again. “This is – it's really hot, Kurt.”

The comment startles an almost-hysterical huffing laugh out of Kurt. Because _oh my god, Captain Obvious_. Mr. Captain Obvious-Humdermel. _Oh my god, no, not that_ , Kurt thinks wildly. “I want you to fuck me,” he says. Then clarifies: “With your cock.”

“Not arguing,” Blaine replies quickly. Working together, fumbling-fast, they free their hands, get a condom on Blaine, and slick up the length of him. Kurt positions Blaine, positions himself, and finally, _finally_ sinks down, a little too fast so it feels like Blaine's cock is filling him up to his throat.

Then he freezes, his eyes flaring open as he shoots Blaine a dangerous look.

Because the fucking phone. Is ringing. Again. It's a real ring this time, a noise like the antique telephone mounted to the wall in Kurt's grandmother's basement. 

Blaine flops back against the bed, panting, and Kurt can't stop the frustrated noise that rips its way out of his throat. “Ignore it,” he bites out.

But this time, Blaine's hand is flailing out for the nightstand. “It's work,” he wheezes out. “That's Headmaster Kelley. Why would he be calling on the weekend?”

“Because either the universe or Ma Bell is determined to cockblock us?” Kurt grumbles.

Blaine struggles up to his elbows. “I have to answer this.” He takes a deep breath, and somehow, despite the fact that he's still got his dick in Kurt's ass, he sounds almost normal when he answers the phone with, “Hello? Headmaster Kelley?”

Kurt exhales, shaky and slow, and squirms minutely. He wants to move. More than that, he _needs_ to move, the imperative of it coiled in his tense muscles and burning up his spine. So he does, easing up just an inch or two and sinking back down. It's gratifying, even more so when he sees Blaine's wide-eyed expression, hears the choke in Blaine's voice when he asks, “Yes? What is it?”

Kurt's in the process of doing it again, fully intending to torture Blaine for the duration of his phone call, but he freezes in place, hovering in a position that starts his thighs aching within seconds, when Blaine's face falls and he exclaims, “What?! Is everyone okay?”

With difficulty, Kurt catches Blaine's eye and mouths, _what happened_?

Blaine just shakes his head and uses one limp hand to help Kurt slide off his cock. “But – how did this...? Oh,” he stammers as Kurt kneels beside him. “I understand.”

Kurt feels a cold trickle of worry quickly drowning out his arousal, and he places a comforting hand on Blaine's arm. He whispers, “what?” but Blaine only shakes his head again.

There isn't much that Kurt can glean from Blaine's half of the conversation, except that something terrible must have happened. Blaine's face is ashen when he finally finishes the call with a faint, “Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll let you know when we get back. Thank you.” He casts his phone aside on the nightstand and stares blankly at the wall.

For his part, Kurt is worked up into a state of full-fledged panic, but he manages to keep most of it out of his voice as he asks, just a touch high-pitched and rushed, “Honey? What is it? What's wrong?” _It was Blaine's work_ , he tells himself. _It wouldn't be Blaine's work calling if something had happened to his father or Carole or Pam or Cooper or anyone else_.

“Dalton burned down,” Blaine says quietly, and his eyes go shiny.

“ _What_?” Kurt gasps. The words don't even make sense at first, and even when they do, Kurt still thinks that it's _impossible_. That's why fire stations exist, isn't it? So huge, historical buildings don't just _burn down_.

Blaine tilts his head toward Kurt, and he looks so forlorn that Kurt can't help reaching out to cup his face in one hand and kiss his forehead. “It burned. Completely. To the ground.”

A knot suddenly forms in the pit of Kurt's stomach. “Oh my god, was anyone – hurt? Any of your kids?”

Blaine turns more fully, nestling his head under Kurt's chin while Kurt wraps Blaine up in his arms. “No. Everyone's fine.” 

“Thank god,” Kurt says. He runs one hand up and down Blaine's back comfortingly. “What happened? How did it start?”

“They don't know yet. They're still investigating,” Blaine replies, muffled. He still sounds completely miserable. 

Kurt keeps his voice gentle. “What does this mean for the Warblers?” _And your job_? he doesn't add.

“Oh, I – I don't know. Headmaster Kelley said we'd talk about that when we get back. I told him we'd try to get on a flight out today.” 

“That's fine, sweetie,” Kurt says, but he doesn't move. Blaine is still huddled up against him, and they can call the airline in a few minutes. “And don't worry. We'll figure everything out. Your job or – or unemployment, or whatever. We'll figure it out.”

Blaine's reply is unexpectedly sudden. “I know. I mean, we'll be going back to New York eventually anyway, right?”

“Of course,” Kurt replies soothingly.

A few seconds of silence pass before Blaine speaks again. “I'm not worried about my job, Kurt. I've known that was temporary since the minute you showed up on my doorstep. It's that – Dalton meant a lot to me. It wasn't just a school. It wasn't just someplace I was dying to get out of to move on to bigger and better things, you know? Even though I transferred to McKinley, Dalton is where I really found myself, and the first place I was really comfortable being myself. After – Sadie Hawkins, and – and everything.”

Kurt brushes a hand through Blaine's hair. “Oh, honey –”

“And it's where we met,” Blaine continues, like Kurt hadn't said anything. 

_That_ brings Kurt up short, makes the gathering sorrow in his chest swell powerfully. “I know.” 

“We had our first kiss there. We fell in love there.” Blaine pauses. “I proposed to you there,” he finishes quietly. Their engagement isn't a topic they've broached since getting back together, and it still feels tender even with the wedding bands on both their fingers. “I always thought we'd bring our kids there some day, to show them.”

Kurt's throat aches, and he tightens his hold on Blaine. “I know.”

Blaine's voice is very small when he asks, “Doesn't it make you sad?”

“Of course it does!” Kurt says quickly. He starts shifting around, rearranging them so that they're facing each other on the same pillow. It's almost too much to see Blaine's big, forlorn eyes, and Kurt reaches out to touch his face. “Meeting your future husband is a very big deal,” he adds, and he's rewarded with a watery smile from Blaine. “But – even though it's sad, and even though the actual, physical _place_ is gone, it doesn't mean that those things are gone.”

“I guess.” Blaine shrugs his free shoulder.

Kurt pets down over Blaine's neck and his collarbone, until his hand is resting on Blaine's chest. “Remember when Mrs. Tressler caught us making out in one of those library study rooms?” 

Blaine looks surprised, but his mouth tilts up again. “How could I forget? It was only, what, the third time we ever did, and in barges Mrs. Tressler yelling about how _the library is for studying, not sexual congress_ and ordering us to _keep our tongues in our own mouths_. I was _humiliated_. I thought you were going to dump me on the spot.”

“Why would I have done that?” Kurt laughs. “I'm pretty sure I started it.”

“You did,” Blaine says sweetly. “But you turned red as a fire engine first.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Remember the _first_ time we made out?” 

“After rehearsal,” Blaine replies without hesitation, “when we told everyone we were practicing our duet.” He rubs Kurt's arm. “You were shaking.”

“So were you!”

“I was kissing the most beautiful boy in school.” One corner of Blaine's lips turns up ruefully. “And I was terrified because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.”

“Well, neither did I,” Kurt argues, “so I wouldn't have known.”

Blaine reaches out with his legs, tangling them with Kurt's. “I just wanted it to be perfect for you. And to be close to you. Maybe loosen your tie a little if you would have let me. Unbutton your cardigan so I was touching you through two layers instead of three.”

Kurt makes a noise of mock offense, but he can't help but chuckle. “We've come a long way since then, haven't we?”

Blaine hums affirmatively. “And we've got a long way to go,” he adds, leaning forward and pressing a firm-soft, lingering kiss to Kurt's lips. When he pulls away, he asks, “Remember that time I brought you flowers, but you accidentally left them in your car all day and they died?”

“My first flowers from a boy,” Kurt sighs tragically. Blaine looks so much better, so much more like himself, that Kurt presses on and says, “Blaine all of those things – they don't go away because the building is gone. They're still here because _we're_ still here, because the love we have for each other is still here. Dalton will always hold a special place in our hearts – especially in yours, and I'll never forget it. But what we have is real, and it's here and now, and it will always be wherever we are, together.”

Kurt almost thinks he's misstepped at first, because Blaine looks like he wants to cry again, but then Blaine whispers, “I love you so much,” and leans back in.

The kiss is slow and deep, and it's passionate as Blaine clings to him, presses their bodies closer together and holds on tight. “I love you too,” Kurt murmurs back when he gets the chance, barely, but then they're back to kissing again, just like that, over and over until Kurt's lips are slippery and buzzing. Blaine wriggles in against him, and Kurt feels Blaine's cock, growing surprisingly interested against Kurt's thigh. “Honey?”

“I want to feel you,” Blaine mumbles, low and desperate. He rocks his hips. “ _You_ should fuck _me_. Maybe we could –”

“No,” Kurt says. “I'm right here. Let me show you.” 

Blaine lets out a muffled noise – Kurt can't even tell if it's a groan or a sob or something else entirely – and retrieves the lube, reslicks his cock, presses back into Kurt's body with two fingers to find him still open and waiting. Then he rolls Kurt gently onto his back and encourages Kurt's legs to lift against his hips. “Like this, okay?” he rasps, rutting wetly into the crack of Kurt's ass.

“Like this,” Kurt agrees, and Blaine reaches down between them to guide himself in.

Kurt moans and rocks up into the pressure, and they work together until Blaine is bottomed out and they're pressed as close together as they can get. He kisses Kurt once and starts to move, keeping their faces close, rubbing his forehead and his cheek against Kurt's as he pants and whines into Kurt's ear.

Something about it feels incomplete to Kurt, so he grabs both sides of Blaine's face, angles their mouths back together, and kisses him, over and over again as he slides his hands around to the nape of Blaine's neck and clings to him there. They fuck slow and deep, then faster, wrapped around each other, Blaine buried inside of Kurt's body, tonguing into each other's mouths between moans and gasps of breath.

Kurt's surprised, but somehow not, when he notices that Blaine's cheek against his own is growing damp. It's not just sweat. “Sweetheart,” Kurt gasps, then repeats, “I'm right here.”

Blaine sniffles a little, but keeps fucking into him, steady and sure and grinding right where it feels good. “Kurt.” He thrusts a few more times, harder, harder. “You're here.” He says it like it's a revelation, like it's a gift, and Kurt knows that in some ways, to Blaine, it is. Because Kurt hasn't always been. _They_ haven't always been, but that's never going to happen, not like it did before.

“I always will be,” Kurt whispers. Blaine kisses him once more, and then it picks up fast, the emotion and the pleasure of it flaring between them, rolling together into a frantic rhythm that jolts Kurt's back against the bedsheets, even though they're still wound so, so tightly together. Blaine pants, and works, and his breath comes in sharp, punched-out little _hah_ s, until he's not crying but crying _out_ , his body shaking and jerking as he comes. 

Kurt is desperately on edge, and he reaches down, gets a hand on his cock, barely needing to touch himself before he tips gratefully over. He'd wanted them to come together, but even if they hadn't, it's about as close as they can get: his orgasm chases the tail end of Blaine's, seizing him up while Blaine's body is still shuddering, and then they fall down against the mattress, heavy limbs and lightened-heavy hearts.

“I love you,” Blaine says, dropping the words seriously into the curve of Kurt's neck.

Tightening his arms across Blaine's sweaty back, Kurt replies, “I love you too,” before kissing Blaine's damp temple.

Blaine props himself up abruptly, burying a hand in Kurt's hair and holding on there like a lifeline. “And we really are here, right? I mean – this is –”

“We're here,” Kurt assures him. “Together. Forever.” The moment is solemn, but suddenly he can't even help the grin that splits his face. “We're _married_.”

“We really are,” Blaine says wonderingly.

“So when we go home, Dalton may not be there anymore, but we will be. Together,” Kurt repeats. He removes one arm from Blaine to start reaching for the phone still waiting on the nightstand. “Should we check flight times?”

Blaine catches his hand and moves it back. He burrows against Kurt's chest again. “In a minute. For now, just stay here with me.”

Kurt does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :) You can find the tumblr post for this fic [here](http://luckiedee.tumblr.com/post/122707682672/here-together-klaine-fic). Feel free to stop by and say hi!


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